^74 FOREST AND STREAM. 
yesterday. It was maddening! How I tugged and 
tugged at that hook, but the serge of my bloomers is 
uew and strong; it wouldn't give way, and all the time 
there were the most promising looking pools, while there 
1 was self-caught — a most ludicrous sight, and miles 
away, for all I knew, from any one to help me. Finally, 
I bethought myself of my hatpin; with that I managed 
to tear, one by one, the strong fibres of those new bloom- 
ers, and to release myself from my own net. If the truth 
must be told, the greater part of my time was spent ex- 
tricating myself from various predicaments. I had many 
a laugh at my own expense at the comical positions and 
situations I got in from time to time. The day was 
\yarm; my thirst was often extreme. Many a time 'I 
threw myself prone on the stones, or on a log, and drank 
from the stream. I got so I could do it 'without strang- 
ling, and how good it was! 
Dear me ! how I have reeled off this tale. When will 
you tire of your ranch life and come back to civilization? 
Come and go with me to Serrine Brook, &rA we'll see 
who is the better angler, the modern Izaak or. 
Yours faithfully, 
Molly Cotton. 
Feeding the Snakes in the New 
York Zoological Gardens* 
In the reptile house in the New York Zoological Gar- 
dens, up in the woods of the Bronx, among the huge glass 
cages, where giant pythons and boa constrictors lie coiled, 
^yherein the lazy diamond-backed rattler glides inquisi- 
trvely toward the glass which separates him from the 
visitor, and where m_yriads of smaller snakes hang en- 
twined in uncanny knots in the limbs of cage trees, there 
is many an extraordinary happening which a visitor to the 
house is not allowed to see. Only during certain hours 
of the day — usually between g A. M. and sunset — are ad- 
mitted to the house the thousands of sightseers who 
on pleasant days come to look at the marvelous collection 
cf snakes. 
Interesting as the sight is during these visiting hours, 
it is really less so than at other hours when visitors are 
not admitted. When the snakes are on view to the public 
they are groomed, as it were, to show off, and are on their 
good behavior. 
But once the doors are closed and the keepers are alone 
with the uncanny reptiles ; when Curator Raymond L. 
Ditmars opens the glass door of the cabinet that contains 
his surgical instruments, and prepares for operations that 
are required for the good of one or another of the in- 
mates-; then, unless interest overcomes repulsion, the 
stranger, who, as a special favor, has gained admittance, 
longs for the open air. 
But it is not only the occasional tooth which must be 
drawn from the jaw of a boa constrictor, or the occasional 
growth which must be removed from the mouth of the 
copperhead, the rattler, or the moccasin, which is grue- 
some; the very feeding of the animals is an uncanny 
thing to contemplate, especially when it comes to seeing 
ihem fed with their own kind. 
Many snakes are snake eaters, as is generally well 
known. Those used for feeding the big fellows are all 
raised at the reptile house, except such as are added to 
the commissary department by men who hunt the reptiles 
in the woods of the park itself. Over four hundred garter 
snakes are now being raised by Curator Ditmars for the 
sole purpose of multiplying and furnishing food for the 
long, thin gullets of the larger snakesr" Of the four hun- 
dred snakes intended for breeding food for the big fel- 
lows, about two hundred may be counted upon as adding 
from forty-five to forty-seven snakes to the collection each 
year. A total of over nine thousand garter snakes is thus 
secured as food for the big rare snakes, in whom life must 
be kept at any cost or sacrifice. This total does not in- 
clude many hundred snakes of other varieties that are 
brought into the house by the hunters who catch them in 
the woods of the park. 
"You'd think," said Curator Ditmars to the writer, 
"that a sixteen-foot boa constrictor would gobble up any- 
thing which happened to come near its terrible jaws, from 
a mouse to a young hippopotamus. As a matter of fact, 
however, the great snakes are choice in their selection of 
food. They carry their epicureanism so far that they 
would rather starve than eat anything for which their 
delicate palates have no liking. 
"To correct these suicidal tendencies the persons in 
charge of the reptile house have to resort to all sorts of 
expedient, even to violence, to make the snakes eat. De- 
prived of their natural food which, in the native state, 
consists of young antelopes, agouti, rabbits and other liv- 
ing animals, snakes in captivity do not take kindly to 
other sorts of nourishment. Rather than eat they will 
die. 
"For months after they arrive it is impossible for us 
to get them to eat. As a rule, we let them go a long time 
before attempting to feed them. Of course, it is better if 
they will eat of their own accord. At times they take to 
the food rapidly; but I have had snakes at the reptile 
house which have not taken food for thirteen months. 
"While starving themselves in this way they get thin 
and the natural gloss of their beautiful coats fades.. The 
debilitated condition of the snake may bring on all sorts of 
ailments. Some get congestion of the lungs, others a 
Fpecies of diphtheria ; some have skin diseases. When we 
think a snake is getting in bad condition from lack of 
food we have to stuff it. 
"This is not f^o pleasant or easy as some might think. 
A twenty-five-foot python is not a gentle creature when 
handled. The muscles of these snakes are very powerful. 
The coils of a python could easily crush the life out of 
a horse. The weight and_ strength of a man — even of a 
Jeffries — would not count in a fight with a boa constrictor 
or a python." 
The history of Curator Ditmars' efforts to make snakes 
eat is very interesting. When a large snake is brought 
to the zoological gardens it is placed in a cage and al- 
lowed to remain undisturbed for a week or two. Usually 
It lies quiet for this length of time. 
_ When it begins to manifest an interest in its surround- 
mgs, food is offered it in the shape of a plucked chicken 
on which the head and feet are allowed to remain. The 
chicken has to be absolutely fresh. Snakes are extremely 
fastidious in the matter of food, and should the meat be 
the least bit tainted they reject it at once. As every one 
knows, most snakes are fond of very young birds, and the 
plucked chicken is offered at fii-st because it resembles a 
bird just out of the egg. 
In a snake's delicate tongue seem to reside all his sen- 
sory organs except that of sight. The snake whips out 
his tongue with lightning rapidity and ascertains whether 
or not his food is fresh. If his preliminary investigation 
proves satisfactory, he goes ahead with his meal in a very 
leisurely fashion. 
The chicken is swallowed whole, as snakes do not mas- 
ticate their food. The powers of accommodation pos- 
sessed by their jaws, however, is something marvelous. 
A snake can easily swallow an animal four times its own 
diameter. In fact, boa constrictors manage to get into 
their throats even fair sized deer and other large animals. 
In killing the prey in their native state they constrict 
It tightly in their folds until all movement on the part of 
the doomed animal ceases. The popular idea that they 
first crush the bones before beginning the swallowing 
process is erroneous. 
Mr. Ditmars has observed some very remarkable phe- 
nomena in connection with the digestive powers of the 
large snakes. It seems that the gastric juices of their 
stomachs are so powerful that they dissolve even the 
bones and teeth of the animals they have swallowed. A 
peculiar fact is that on occasions when the snake has acci- 
dentally svyallowed one of its own teeth the tooth will be 
found undigested; whereas the teeth of its prey always 
disappear in the snake's digestive process. 
When a valued snake in the New York Zoo refuses to 
take kmdly to plucked chicken, and lets months roll by 
without any evident intention to eat, no matter how en- 
ticing the food which is offered it, measures have to be 
taken to prevent it from committing suicide. Usually 
large snakes are placed in cages with several others of 
their kind. It is a difficult matter to extract from his cage 
one of the snakes without exciting the others. 
The greatest precautions have to be taken by those 
conducting the food-compelling operations. Under Cura- 
tor Ditmars are assistants Charles Snyder, Frederick Dahl 
and George Stockesdale. It is the province of the first 
named assistant to enter the python cage and throw 
blankets over the heads of the snakes which are not to be 
fed. 
This task is not free from danger. Aside from the 
fact that the snakes might envelop the man in their coils, 
the man runs great risks from bites. The bite of the 
python, anaconda, and others of his class, is not poisonous, 
but it is very painful. 
These snakes have well developed teeth and powerful 
jawS; There are four rows of teeth in the upper jaw and 
two in the lower. The teeth are very sharp. When a boa 
constrictor bites he shuts his mouth tightly and pulls back 
with his strong neck muscles. This tears the flesh and 
makes a frightful wound. 
Watching his opportunity and ready to leap from the 
cage at the slightest sign of danger. Assistant Snyder 
throws a small gray blanket over the head of each snake. 
As soon as the snake's head is covered by the blanket he 
remains quiet, as a rule. There are times, however, when 
the snake resents being blanketed in this fashion, and in- 
sists on popping his head out as soon as the blanket 
touches him. At times it takes several hours to get the 
heads of the snakes covered. 
When the snakes have been covered the one to be fed 
is seized by the body just back of the head. With a re- 
markably quick movement the head of the snake is then 
drawn from the cage. 
As soon as the snake has been pulled from his cage he 
begins to resent the treatment. His coils mount up with 
wonderful rapidity. At this point, Assistants Dahl and 
Stockdale throw thmselves upon the reptile and prevent 
Inm from constricting. The greatest -care has to be taken 
m performing this task in order not to let the snake get 
the folds of his body about any of the men. 
They keep well outside the terrible circles by jumping 
over ^ the snake's body whenever he gets them in "chan- 
cery," as it were. This often requires a nimbleness on 
the part of the assistants which would be almost laughable 
were it not so fraught with danger. 
When the body of the snake has been drawn entirely 
out of the cage, from twelve to fifteen other men throw 
their weight on the folds of the snake and compel it to 
remain in a straight line. 
The snake is then carried out into a large room in the 
reptile house, where its enforced meal awaits it. Usually 
a meal for one of the big anacondas or pythons consists of 
five or six guinea pigs strung together. They have been 
kiHed and soaked in water previous to the feeding hour. 
The guinea pigs are attached to a long pole. The jaws of 
the snake are forced open, and this pole, with the pig's 
attached, is thrust down the snake's throat. When the 
pole has passed down about one-sixth of the snake's 
length, it is withdrawn minus the guinea pigs. 
Up to this time the snake has offered very little resist- 
ance, save for the first rebellious paroxysm. Now, how- 
ever, he begins to assert himself very forcibly. He makes 
desperate efforts to rid himself of his meal by a series of 
convulsions which would do credit to any contortionist. 
3t seems to an onlooker as if he were trying to tie him- 
self in knots, from a half hitch to a "granny." The fifteen 
men are swayed about as if they were mere children. It 
requires all their combined force to keep the reptile 
straight. If once he is allowed to draw himself into a 
knot coil all the feeding has to be done over again. 
After about five minutes' of strenuous effort to free 
himself from the hands of his captor the snake seems 
finally to reconsider his decision not to swallow his food. 
One can observe the guinea pigs go down through the body 
cf the reptile in the form of a great lump. When it has 
reached about half the length it comes to a standstill. 
The snake is now taken back to the cage. The door is 
opened and the head of the snake is thrust in. The rest 
of his body is forced in after him, and the door is closed 
with a sharp snap — sometimes just in time to prevent the 
other snakes from darting out; for, while the absent snake 
is being fed, they usually emerge from their blankets and 
{May f, i04. 
are on the qui vive for a chance to get out as soon as the 
door is opened. 
^Vhen the fed snake finds himself back in his cage he 
begms to take life easily once more. In one corner of his 
abode is a tank of water. Into this he crawls, coiling his 
<folds about until he lies in a compact heap, with his head 
beneath the surface of the water. Here he will remain, 
occasionally coming to the surface to breathe, for many 
days. He is digesting his dinner. This is a rather slow 
process. 
Several of the larger snakes in the collection are fed 
m this way about once every ten days. After two or three 
compulsory feedings boa constrictors begin to take to their 
food naturally. They will eat, when thev have become 
used to captivity, rats, mice, chickens, rabbits and small 
birds and animals. 
[to be continued.] 
Short Talks on Taxidermy. 
II. — Skinning the Bird. 
It is not well to begin to skin a specimen immediately 
after it has been killed. It should lie for an hour or two, 
ni order that it may cool and the blood and other juices 
cf the body somewhat harden. If the bird be skinned 
too soon, the blood is likely to flow freely, and to make 
more or less trouble by wetting and soiling the feathers, 
lou will provide against an undue amount of moisture 
iii_ your specimen by having at hand a saucer or small dish 
oi fine corn meal, which is to be sprinkled over— and 
will dry up— any moisture that makes its appearance. 
A small pine table is good to skin on, and it is well to 
spread over this an open newspaper, which, at the end of 
the work, can be rolled up, with all the loose feathers, 
bits of flesh, scattered poison, etc., in it, and then can be 
thrust into the kitchen fire. Of course, one can skin a 
bird on his knee, or on pretty nearly anv support when 
he knows how, but it is just as well to work, at first, at 
least, in the way which is easiest. 
Suppose that you have returned to the house, have 
spread out j^our various implements on the table; have 
your specimen now cool and rigid before you. Look 
closely at the bird as it lies there. If you are going to 
n;ake a skin, your ambition should be to so prepare the 
specimen that it will look as nearly as possible like the 
dead bird. Note, therefore, the appearance of the bird as 
It lies on its back. Its bill neither sticks straight up in 
the air, nor points directly out in the line of the body, 
but is turned up at an angle of 30 of 40 degrees with 
the horizontal. The bird is plump and round throughout, 
but the breast is fuller than the belly. The points of the 
wings almost meet under the tail, and the feathers of the 
sides of the neck and breast cover the margin of the wing 
at its bend and part way back to the tip. If you turn 
the bird on its side you will see that the back is not flat 
from side to side, but is rounded, and that when the bird 
IS lying on its back the shoulders do not fall down and 
rest on the table, but stand up above it. The sides of the 
head about the eyes are more or less flat, yet the eye 
itself is full. If your skin is to be a good one it must 
resemble the dead bird. 
After you have considered the specimen and have its 
form pretty well in your eye, you may as well begin to take 
off the skm. The stiffest and longest parts of the bird, 
and those least easy to handle, are the wings. For con- 
venience in handling, it is customary to break the wing 
bones close to the body, except in cases where it is de- 
sired, to mount a bird with spread wings; but we are 
now talking only about making skins. For a small bird 
you may, with your forceps, or your pliers, crush each 
wmg bone close to the body on either side. Now place 
the bird on its back on the table, lying so that you can 
conveniently use your right hand in skinning. Some of 
the books recommend that the bird's head should be 
directed to the left; others, that it should point away 
from you. It really makes no difference, the desirable 
point being that it should lie so that it is most convenient 
to your hand. The feathers of the breast and belly must 
be parted by the fingers of the left hand, if you are right 
handed, and the naked skin exposed. Take your medium- 
sized knife, one with the blade not over two inches long, 
and make a cut from the middle of the breast bone down 
toward the tail, until you reach the vent. Since you 
merely wish to separate the skin from the body you 
should try to cut only through the skin. Over the breast 
muscles, where the cut begins, it makes very little differ- 
ence whether you cut deep or not, but when you have 
passed beyond the breast, and are cutting through the 
skin over the belly, you must make short strokes, other- 
wise you are likely to cut not only through the skin, but 
through tissues covering the belly, and even into the in- 
testines ; ..and if you do this you will set free more or less 
fluid matter, which will be in your way and will very 
likely soil the feathers. If an undue amount of moisture 
appears, scatter a pinch or two of the cornmeal over it, 
and this will keep the fluid from spreading. 
When you have cut down to the vent, take the skin on 
the left-hand side of the cut in your thumb and finger and 
lift it up, and then introduce the flat handle of your 
scalpel, if this is the implement you are using, and work 
it around, backward and forward, pushing the body of 
the bird away from the skin. With a little practice you 
can do this very quickly, and with entire safety to the 
skm; whereas, if you use the edge of the knife, you may 
either cut the skin, or cut more or less flesh from the 
body, which will afterward have to be cleaned off from 
the skin. 
After you have worked the skin away from the body 
you will see just about opposite the posterior end of the 
breast bone the knee of the bird sticking up inside the 
skin. Take hold of this, either with the right-hand 
fingers, or with the point of the knife and the thumb, 
and with the forefinger and thumb of the left hand work 
the skin down toward the foot, always pushing the skin, 
never pulling it; then cut the leg off at the knee joint,' 
either by pressing with your knife against your thumb, or 
with the scissors, and cut the flesh through to the skin. 
Be careful, however, not to cut through the skin. This 
can be avoided by holding your left forefinger under the 
skin, while the thumb holds the leg below the knee ; then 
as the knife is pressed down through the flesh toward th« 
